Magic Strikes

by Ilona Andrews

  Unfortunately, Andrea was not a nonshapeshifter woman, nor was she a bouda. Lyc-V, the virus responsible for the shapeshifter phenomenon, affected animals as well as humans. In very rare cases, the resulting creature was an animal-were, a being who started its life as an animal and gained the ability to turn into a human. Most animal-weres turned out to be sterile, mentally retarded, and violent, but occasionally one could function in a human society well enough not to be killed outright. And even more occasionally they could procreate.

  Andrea was a beastkin, a child of a hyenawere and a bouda. She hid it from everyone: from the shapeshifters, because some would kill her owing to an ancient deep-seated prejudice, and from the Order, because the moment they realized she was a shapeshifter, they would jettison her from the ranks. Technically, as a shapeshifter, Andrea was subject to Curran’s power, and the Order demanded absolute loyalty. So far Curran hadn’t pressed the issue, but he could change his mind any moment.

  As far as I knew, only the bouda clan within the Pack, Curran, Jim, Derek, Doolittle, and I knew what Andrea was. And we all quietly conspired to keep it that way without ever actually discussing the subject.

  “You really want some advice?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Try to think less like a bouda and more like a man.”

  He bristled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Bouda is what I am.”

  I wiped the last smudge of tzatziki off my plate with my bread. “She’s a knight of the Order. Only one in eight who enroll into the Order’s Academy makes it to graduation. She’s worked very hard at being a human. Be her friend. Talk to her. Find out what books she reads, what guns she likes . . . Speaking of books, I can tell you something specific about Andrea, but it will cost you.”

  “What do you need?”

  “The Midnight Games. Everything you know.”

  “Easy enough.” Raphael grinned. “You go first.”

  “How do I know you’ll pay up?”

  “Andrea’s coming up the stairs. I can hear her. Please, Kate.” He did his version of puppy eyes, and I almost fell out of my chair.

  “Fine.” Kate Daniels, trained negotiator. When in possession of some valuable information, give it away to the first sexy man you see with no guarantee of return. “Lorna Sterling. She writes paranormal romances. Andrea loves her with unholy love. She has a stack of her books under her desk at work. She’s missing numbers four and six.”

  Raphael pulled a pen out of his backpack and scribbled on his forearm. “Lorna?”

  “Sterling. Books four and six. Andrea’s been haunting that bookstore on the corner for weeks looking for them.”

  Andrea emerged from the door, carrying a milk shake and a plate of sliced peaches. The pen vanished into Raphael’s backpack.

  I leveled my hard stare at Raphael. “Give.”

  “The Midnight Games are forbidden,” he said. “By the direct order of the Beast Lord, no member of the Pack may participate, aid, or bet on the Midnight Games.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you got?”

  He shrugged. There was more to it; I could tell by his face. He was holding out on me. Bastard. I looked at Andrea. Help me.

  She took a peach, bit a tiny piece from it, and licked her lips slowly. Raphael did a stunning impression of a pointer sighting a pheasant.

  “How come they’re forbidden? Is there a story behind it?” Andrea bit another piece of peach and licked her lips again.

  “Yes, there is,” Raphael murmured. I almost felt sorry for him. I wonder if that would work with . . . I grabbed that thought and stomped on it before it had a chance to infect my head with nonsense.

  Andrea smiled. “That sounds interesting. I’d like to hear it.”

  Raphael caught himself. “It’s not something we explain to outsiders.”

  “Too bad.” Andrea shrugged and glanced at me. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I was born ready.” I reached for my bag.

  “I guess there wouldn’t be any harm in telling it this once,” Raphael said.

  I let go of the bag.

  “In two thousand twenty-four, the tournament was still legal, and the championship came down to a fight between the Necro Lords and Andorf’s Seven. Andorf was a huge were-Kodiak, twenty-five hundred and eighty pounds in beast form. Had paws bigger than my head.” Raphael spread his hands, indicating a paw the size of a large watermelon. “Big, mean, vicious bastard. Loved to fight. He put together a good team, but by that point there were only four of them left: Andorf, a wolf, a rat, and my aunt Minny.”

  CHAPTER 4

  ANDREA’S MOUTH HUNG OPEN IN A DECIDEDLY unseductive manner.

  “Aunt, huh?” I said to say something.

  Raphael nodded. “That’s how the bouda clan used to make its money. We’d bet on ourselves. It was different back then. Now we have the Pack, which provides us with operating funds. We draft a budget. We have an investment plan and own shares in businesses. But back then there was no such thing as a ‘Pack.’ There were isolated clans and we pretty much sank or swam on our own.”

  The bouda clan counted less than twenty people. Sixteen years ago, it must’ve been even smaller. They couldn’t have had an easy time of surviving. “Who was on the other team in the championship?”

  “Four navigators from the People.” Raphael counted off on fingers. “Ryo Montoya, Sam Hardy, Marina Buryatova-Hardy, and Sang. As much as I hate the fuckers, it was a deadly team.”

  Of that, I had no doubt.

  “Why would the People involve themselves in the fight?” Andrea frowned.

  “They were just building the Casino. There was some talk of money gone missing and repercussions coming down their chain of command if it wasn’t found fast. They bet a lot and needed to win.”

  “So what happened?” I leaned forward.

  Raphael grimaced. “The People had an edge. The bloodsuckers tore the rat in half and my aunt’s guts were all over the Pit. Looked like curtains for Andorf’s Seven.”

  “And?”

  “Andorf went nuts. Nobody knows if he went loup or just berserk—bears do that sometimes. He shifted into full beast form, ripped the vamps to shreds, crushed the wolf’s skull, then broke through the fence around the Pit, and went after the navigators. They ran, and he chased them through the crowd. Mauled whoever got in his way. Killed all four and over a hundred spectators. Then he rammed the wall and took off.”

  “Holy crap.” Andrea drained a third of her milk shake.

  “Yeah. Not the best way to end the night.”

  An enormous were-Kodiak gone mad on the streets of Atlanta. A Kodiak trained as a fighter, smart as a human, stronger and bigger and badder than the average bear. It would have been the ultimate nightmare for the shapeshifters.

  “There was a massive manhunt,” Raphael said. “Andorf hid in Unicorn Lane.”

  An area of deep, wild magic, Unicorn Lane sliced across Downtown like a scar. Treacherous magic swirled and pooled there even during tech. Even the Military’s Supernatural Defense Unit didn’t dare to stay too long.

  “An assembly of clans was called to try to figure out how we would deal with that mess, because all sorts of shit had broken out. The People were calling for the expulsion of all shapeshifters; the zealots came out in force with that Sign of the Beast crap again. It couldn’t have gotten more screwed up. This clusterfuck needed to be fixed and fast. The wolf clan was the largest.”

  “Of course.” Andrea snorted.

  “Francois Ambler headed the wolf clan at the time, and people called for him to go and take Andorf down. He wouldn’t do it. The way my mother tells it, he got up and just walked away. Abandoned the clan, gave up being an alpha, and took a ley line out of town.” Raphael smiled. “What happened next only the alphas know. But I can tell you the facts: three days later Andorf’s head showed up on the Capitol’s steps. And two days after that, Curran became Beast Lord. The first law he made forbade Pack members from participating in or betting
on the Games.”

  I counted in my head. Two thousand twenty-four, I was nine. Curran was only a few years older than me . . . “How old was he?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Shit.”

  Raphael nodded. “Yeah.”

  We sat in silence for a long minute, digesting the story. What meager hopes I had of finding a sympathetic ear within the Pack in regard to Derek’s problem had just evaporated into thin air. This was one law on which there wouldn’t be any leeway. What should I do now?

  Andrea stirred her milk shake with a spoon. “So, how are things with you and Curran?”

  There were times in life when I wished for supreme mental powers. Like telekinesis. Mostly, I wanted them to crush my opponents. But right now I wanted them so I could pull the chair out from under Andrea and make her fall on her butt.

  I settled for spitting three times over my left shoulder.

  “Are you warding off evil?” Raphael’s eyes widened.

  “Well, the two of you did say the forbidden name. I have to take precautions. I need something wooden. Lean forward, Andrea, so I can knock on your head.”

  Andrea cracked a smile.

  “To answer your question, we’re great. Never better. I haven’t seen His Fussiness in two months, and I couldn’t be happier. If my luck holds, he’s lost interest and found himself somebody else to hound for his amusement.”

  During the flare Curran had finally found a way to pay me back for all those times I’d nearly brought him to apoplexy. He had told me I would sleep with him sooner or later and thank him for his services in bed. Hell would sprout roses first.

  “He hasn’t found anyone, as far as I know,” Raphael said. “Nobody has seen him with a woman since the flare. That’s not terribly unusual for him, but it’s not common either.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And that means what?”

  Raphael leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Have you ever seen a lion hunt a herd?”

  “No.”

  “They are very single-minded. When a lion stalks a herd, he sneaks in close, lies down, and surveys them to choose his victim. He takes his time. The deer or buffalo have no idea he’s near. He finds his prey and then he explodes from his hiding place and grabs it. Even if another, perfectly serviceable animal ends up within his reach, he isn’t going to alter his course. He has chosen, and he would rather go hungry than change his mind. A dumb way to live, if you ask me, but that’s their nature. Me, I don’t ignore opportunities.”

  “Yeah.” Andrea’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Raphael gave her a hurt look. “I am what I am.”

  “You’re a man first. You sit here in a human shape, wearing human clothes, making human noises. Pretty obvious which part of you is in control. But when someone points out your excesses, you wave your hands around and start crying, ‘Oh no, it’s the beast! I can’t help it!’ ” Andrea caught herself and clamped her mouth shut.

  I did my best to change the subject. “I think you give our relationship too much credit. I irritate the hell out of Curran and he found a way to pester me. It’s nothing.”

  “You may be right,” Raphael said.

  “His Majesty needs a can-I girl anyway. And I’m not it.”

  “A can-I girl?” Andrea frowned.

  I leaned back. “ ‘ Can I fetch you your food, Your Majesty? Can I tell you how strong and mighty you are, Your Majesty? Can I pick out your fleas, Your Majesty? Can I kiss your ass, Your Majesty? Can I . . .”

  It dawned on me that Raphael was sitting very still. Frozen, like a statue, his gaze fixed on the point above my head.

  “He’s standing behind me, isn’t he?”

  Andrea nodded slowly.

  “Technically it should be ‘may I,’” Curran said, his voice deeper than I remembered. “Since you’re asking permission.”

  He stepped into my view, reached for a chair at a table next to us, and found it bolted to the floor. He gripped the chair and plucked it from the concrete with one hand, leaving four screws sticking out of the floor. He put the chair next to me, back first, and saddled it like a horse, crossing his arms on the top of the back to show off carved biceps.

  Why me?

  “To answer your question, yes, you may kiss my ass. Normally I prefer to maintain my personal space, but you’re a Friend of the Pack and your services have proven useful once or twice. I strive to accommodate the wishes of persons friendly to my people. My only question is, would your kissing my ass be obeisance, grooming, or foreplay?”

  Raphael went a shade paler and bowed his head. “By your leave, m’lord.”

  Curran nodded.

  Raphael grabbed Andrea by the hand.

  Andrea blinked. “But . . .”

  “We have to go now.” Raphael’s smile had a bit of an edge to it. He fled and dragged Andrea with him, leaving me and Curran alone. Traitors.

  CHAPTER 5

  “YOU DIDN’ T ANSWER MY QUESTION,” CURRAN said. “What will it be?”

  “No,” I said.

  Curran grinned and my heart made a little jump. I didn’t expect that.

  “That’s it? That’s your witty comeback?”

  “Yep.” Eloquence ’R’ Us. When in trouble, keep it monosyllabic—safer that way.

  Curran rested his chin on his crossed arms. Really, he wasn’t anything special. Today he wore faded jeans and a grayish-blue polo shirt of all things. It’s hard to look lethal in a polo shirt, but he managed. Perhaps because it did nothing to hide the definition on his chest or the hard lines of his shoulders. In fact, if he flexed, he’d probably rip it. I knew that under that shirt his body was hard like a suit of armor.

  Perhaps it wasn’t his body, but the air about him. When he wanted to, Curran literally emanated menace. I had seen him roar in fury and display an icy, determined anger, sharp like a dagger, and I wasn’t sure which was more terrifying. The gold fire in his eyes triggered some sort of primordial fear in me, a feeling born ages ago by the light of the young fire, before reason, before logic, when human existence was ruled by the fear of things with claws and teeth and of being eaten. That fear shackled me. I couldn’t rationalize it away. I had to fight it with pure will and so far I had held my own, but I had no guarantee I would resist it the next time he decided to treat me to his alpha stare.

  Curran looked me over slowly. I did the same, matching him smirk for smirk. Blond hair cut too short to grab. Nose that looked like it had been broken and never healed right, an odd thing for any shapeshifter, and especially for one of Curran’s caliber. Gray eyes . . . I looked into those eyes and saw tiny gold sparks dancing in their depths. And my heart made another little jump.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  “I like the hair,” he said.

  In the spirit of an off-duty Friday, I wore my hair down. I mostly braided it or curled it into a bun to keep it out of the way, but today it just sort of hung there, a long dark brown wall shifting in the breeze on both sides of my face.

  I flexed my wrist, popping a long silver needle into my palm from the leather wrist guard, grabbed my hair, twisted it into a bun, stuck the needle into it to hold it in place, and showed him my teeth in a little smile. There.

  He laughed. “Cute. You ever get tired of pretending to be a hard-ass?”

  Cute. I think I would prefer to be stabbed in the eye rather than be called cute. “To what do I owe the pleasure of Your Majesty’s company?” And the ruination of my lunch.

  “I just wanted some peaches.” He smiled.

  Since when did a death in the Pack result in such good cheer?

  “Is there any particular reason you were asking about the Midnight Games?” he asked.

  “I have a passing interest in history.” I was on shaky ground. I had no clue if he knew about Derek or not. I needed to cut this conversation short. “Does the Pack require my services as an employee of the Order?”

  “Not at the moment.” He leaned back, picked up the plate with Andrea’s peaches, and off
ered it to me. “Peach?”

  My smile got sharper. During the flare, Curran offered me some soup and I ate it. Later the boudas’ alpha, Aunt B, explained the facts of life to me: shapeshifters offered food to their prospective mates. He was at once declaring himself my protector, implying that I was weaker than him, and propositioning me. And I took it. It had amused him to no end. Had I known what the soup meant, I would’ve eaten it anyway—I was half-dead at the time.

  I crossed my arms on my chest. “No, thanks. I’m not accepting any more food from you.”